Questions of a Contemplative College Student

As a senior in college, I often hear the question “What do you want to do?”  Others in my situation can attest to the domino effect of this particular question—discomfort turns to anxiety, then to disgust, perhaps morphing into depression.  Eventually, I resorted to a quick-fix: a variety of prepared responses.  Every few months, I change the current post-grad “plan” for another imagined pathway, and it works pretty well to prevent stress attacks.  Nonetheless, as graduation approaches, I’ve finally given more thought to “what I want to do with my life.”

 In my experience, the question refuses to be tackled head on.  When I really think about what I “want to do,” the subject gives way and I stumble into a deeper layer, composed of new questions.  Because doing must flow from a proper understanding of my identity and my place in the world, I instead probe these questions:  “What do I want to be?  Is it even a matter of what I want?  What is my purpose?” 

At this point, the floor gives way yet again, and I would be in a freefall….Postmodernism tells me there are no answers, and I have no purpose.  Other voices whisper that I am the answer; I must “find myself” and “follow my heart,” which leaves me as much in the dark as before.  But my fall was broken early and gently by exposure to what has been called the Great Books approach.

The classic authors built the solid ground from which I can enter a discussion of life’s essential questions.  The greats of the past pose these questions: What is man?  What is his purpose? Or, what is the good life?  The works of Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Shakespeare, and, of course, the Bible explore human nature, theology, natural law, civil society, the role of poetry, etc.  Truth is available on these topics, and truth is applicable to our lives.  Identifying human nature and pondering how to live—these will shed the wise light of history and philosophy on my concerns and decisions.

Within the large questions posed by the world’s great thinkers, my specific queries for this blog are as follows:

What is liberal education?  The university is the natural place for discussing timeless questions and studying great books.  And liberal education, based on the great books, is the doorway to the kind of intellectual environment which Allan Bloom calls “the community of those who seek the truth.” 

How is liberal education relevant in our world of action?  Though I feel pulled toward academia with my thirst for knowledge, I am repulsed by the thought of a useless life.  The last thing I want is to sit in an “ivory tower” of intellectualism, writing obscure books that no one will ever read.  Knowledge for its own sake?  Not too appealing.  I hate to sound harsh, but that is what academia looks like to a lot of students.  In my generation, I’m not alone in a strong desire to change the world—and to us that means feeding the hungry, helping the poor, establishing foundations, starting movements, being world leaders, etc.  So I guess my question is the following: Can I make a lasting, positive difference through a life of intellectual learning?

My heart cries an instinctive “yes,” but my mental reasoning demands proof.  I suspect that I will find, among the wiser voices of the past, a clearer vision of the benefits of deep thinking, reading, and writing.  I hope that liberal education will emerge as both noble and practical.  

Within this inquiry, I include a topic of particular interest to me: Why is the study of literature important?  What is its role in relation to the other realms of knowledge?  I’m pursuing degrees in English Literature and French, so elucidation on the purpose of literature will help me decide whether to continue my literary studies.  I certainly enjoy the field, but again, I seek a deeper impetus than what I “want to do.” 

To explore these topics, I am reading four books this summer.  In The Closing of the American Mind, Bloom critiques the modern university, claiming that the current mode of education impoverishes students’ souls.  I’ve read most of this volume and seen that, sadly, his laments are based on truth.  I will refer to Bloom as I go along, but my posts will begin with John Henry Newman’s The Idea of a University.  I will then move to The Theory of Education in the United States by Albert Jay Nock, followed by Irving Babbitt’s Literature and the American College.  My current plan is to accurately identify their basic arguments and, where appropriate, respond with connections among the readings, observations about the contemporary situation, and references to my original questions.

Please join an earnest student who seeks to better understand purpose, education, and human existence in this brave new world.   I appreciate your feedback!